The Sex Lives of KinkyMira and Friends

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

Category: Kink (Page 6 of 11)

My New Office Chair

23 May 2021 /

I sat looking at this new arrival into our home office. It was a swivel chair on wheels, with a padded back in very similar fabric to our other office chairs, but with a plastic bucket seat, almost like a school chair, but adult-sized, a little deeper and with no hole in it.

I knew exactly what this was for, and I have to say I was ridiculously excited. This was a chair to wet myself on; the bucket seat would collect my piss and keep me sitting in it. I texted my husband (who ordered it), and he replied that he thought this would make me much more productive in the office. Yeah, right. It would make me much pissier and hornier, but I doubt more productive.

So, I put on a blouse and my work suit and settled down to start work, knowing full well that before the day is out, I would have wet myself in this new chair. I had a big bottle of drink to ensure my bladder was being steadily loaded during the morning, ready for him to return at about lunchtime.

When he did so, we were both already in character. I think he was pleased, not just with the chair, but he could tell from my movements that my bladder was fairly full, but I assumed I was going to be in for some serious desperation before I actually got to piss in the chair.

After a good amount of moving around working (each little movement putting a strain on my bladder), I settled down in my chair to do some computer work. My bladder was already full, but he kept topping up my glass to encourage me to top up my bladder.

At one point, I realised I had paused typing and was grabbing at my crotch. He had seen and asked me if I was OK. I said I was, but I did need a piss, but he insisted I finish this document first as it was urgent.

And so began the game. I finished something, drinking more liquid as I did it, asked to piss, and he said I needed to do something else first. And something else, and something else. I realised I could have just let go and pissed myself at any point, but where is the fun in that?

So, over the next half hour, I carried on drinking, crotch grabbing, squirming, and occasionally typing. At one point, he told me that going on and on about needing to piss was getting tiresome, and that I needed to do the job I was paid for without the interruptions. That little bit of role play really upped the game, and for the first time, I realised where this was going; he was setting this up delightfully.

After the fifth time I told him I desperately needed to piss, I was grabbing my crotch pretty much permanently. He told me to stop grabbing my crotch and carry on typing, and as I moved my hands away, I felt a small high pressure squirt. I clenched my muscles to try to stop it, but another squirt came and then the floodgates opened.

My face must have shown my predicament, as he realised and started asking if I was pissing. Was his nice professional secretary pissing herself in his office? He couldn’t believe how I had turned into this disgusting filthy bitch who couldn’t do her job without pissing herself. His words were turning me on enormously, but my bladder control had gone completely, and my piss was gushing out, seeping into the back of my skirt, and filling the plastic seat with a pool of my ever cooling piss.

There was no point in slowing the flow now, so I just let my piss seep out. He told me enough with the pissing obsession and to get typing again, so I started typing even as piss was still exiting my pisshole.

The ass area of my skirt was totally saturated and immersed in the piss, and I have to admit it felt rather thrilling.

A few minutes later, he asked if I’d finished pissing, if his lovely innocent professional secretary had finished pissing herself like a drunken tart, and I meekly said I had.

He said good and told me to stand up and bend over the desk. After I did so, I heard the camera taking pictures of my piss soaked skirt pulling tight over my ass.

Then he unzipped the two zips and lifted up the flap in my skirt to reveal my wet ass, moaning about his fingers being covered in piss. Then I felt his leather belt, doubled over to form a loop, impact across both my ass cheeks. It was clearly a hard strike, intensified by the wetness of my ass.

Another strike, then another, and the hard strikes were raining down at pace. After about a dozen, he stopped and zipped up my skirt, saying hopefully that would help me to think less about pissing and more about work. No chance, especially as the back of my skirt was still dripping and pulling taught over my burning ass, and that was before I sat back in the pool of piss and felt it flow back around my cheeks. It was soothing on my freshly tanned ass (and this is something I am not used to, as my ass usually has no soothing measures until well after the spanking session is completed).

As he told me what to do next, he put another glass of water in front of me as well. I sipped the water and tried to work, aware of the wetness around my ass, until about 20 minutes later, when he repeated the dozen spanks on my wet bare ass with his doubled up belt, and he repeated it every 20 minutes for a couple of hours, until I was fidgeting in my seat again. He saw me and told me I’d better not be about to piss again. I smiled sweetly at him, but my body movements must have given me away, as he knew my piss was flowing, topping up the puddle in the chair.

He couldn’t believe I was pissing myself again! He told me I had to learn pissing was not acceptable for a quality secretary, so once I had finished, he stripped my skirt and blouse off me, putting them into the piss on my chair, bent me over the desk, and began spanking me with his folded over belt again. I lost count of the number of strokes, but all the time, he was talking about me having to learn pissing was not acceptable. After he’d done, and my ass really was rather raw and painful, he told me to sit on top of my clothes back in the piss and stay there until my work was done, as he’d had enough of someone so disgusting.

I was there for about 30 minutes with the piss soothing my ass, sitting, and pushing my clothes into pool of piss. As he left the office, he was saying how he’d prefer his secretary to not piss herself every time she comes into the office. And yet I knew that was exactly what he had planned, and I loved it.

Forever Smooth (Part One)

4 May 2021 /

So, what couldn’t I wait to be allowed to do again? Two things really, and not being able to do either had been a real downer for me during the lockdowns.

The first one was sex parties. I missed them. I missed the glory of watching other people have mind-blowing sex, I missed having an audience, I missed the visual feast, I missed the intoxicating sounds and smells, and I missed the exhilaration of performing. We have plans for a few sex parties, and they’ll set the house on fire when we can do them. Hopefully, that will be soon.

The second one was electrolysis. Having planned some treatments last autumn, I was stopped the day before the treatment plan was due to start, and 4 months later, I have only just got started. That has been a very frustrating time, but the delay turned out quite emboldening.

You see, me having electrolysis is not without precedent – about nineteen years ago, I helped a friend out who needed someone to do electrolysis on for her college qualification, by volunteering my armpits to have the hair removed. Now electrolysis is painful, but a few hours of pain has produced nineteen years of virtually hair free armpits, which I consider to be a very good deal. (Also, how painful is it really compared to 30 strokes on the ass with a tawse?) At the time, I got the electrolysis for a bargain price, but I haven’t been able to afford commercial electrolysis to have more done.

Well, one night during the first lockdown, we ended up discussing body hair, and it turns out all three of us have bits we’d like to have done. My husband had been shaving his armpits since well before lockdown started; he found it did wonders for smell and fancied making it permanent. Vicki, having seen and licked my armpits, wanted hers done too. And me? I hate my leg hair, I hate shaving leg hair, and I hate the way the slightest bit catches and interferes with stockings.

My husband of course rather fancied Vicki and I both being hair free below the neck, even though he did enjoy waxing our pubes. Neither Vicki nor I were sure whether we wanted to go that far, although I did like her idea of leaving pubes in a heart shape and clearing the rest.

My husband did point out how much hair was an impediment to cake sits, which is why he waxed us both to within an inch of our lives the day before. Trying to suck icing out of pubes is very annoying, and I hate getting pubes stuck between my teeth, but it would be fantastic to be cake sit ready at all times and therefore able to have an impromptu cake sit.

Now, I like my man to have a little fuzz on his chest, some hair to run my hands through, and his chest hair is so fine and soft, it is lovely to snuggle against.

But there is certain hair on his body that I wanted to deal with. He had a strip over each shoulder that made him look like he’s wearing a tabard, and his back hair wasn’t symmetrical, so I thought it would be good if this was all tidied up with some nice shaping towards the top of his body. Vicki isn’t keen on back hair at all and would like him to lose it completely. I wouldn’t mind that one bit. The other thing I’d like to deal with is his balls and round to his ass. Both Vicki and I would suck his balls and lick his ass a lot more if they were hair free. Obviously, there is a lot there to excite him.

Now I know these sound like easy decisions, but as my armpits showed, these are permanent changes. It is not like you can decide you have made a mistake and just let the hair grow back. Once they’ve been done, there is no changing your mind. No winter fuzz and summer shave, no deciding you want a pubey triangle after years of being hair free. Once you’ve had the electrolysis done, there is no going back, and therefore it is a big decision. We could have waxed our whole bodies as a test for whether we liked it, but none of us fancied the hassle of waxing everything – that is why we were considering electrolysis in the first place.

As we were still earning pretty near full money throughout the lockdown, and we were saving through the combination of Victoria moving in and a lack of commuting, we could afford to splash out a little. So last November, we booked a consultation with an electrologist with a very good reputation. All three of us talked through our desires and concerns and each had committed to a first step – leg clearance for me and armpits for Vicki and my husband, but as I said, we never actually got started.

But it turned out that the wait did us good. It allowed us to think each think it through without any particular pressure. The longer we went on, we were all frustrated and emboldened: I went all “take it all off. I’m not having this again. All of it!” (Actually, when I described it to our electrologist, she thought it was hilarious, but she suggested we start with the legs anyway). Vicki had decided on armpits, pubes, and ass (to be cake sit ready), and my husband decided on armpits, balls, ass, and shoulders. That’s a lot of electrolysis between the three of us, and we did get a bulk discount!

And with the enforced wait, the more each of us was thinking of having removed. Vicki had suggested my husband have his pubes cleared too, which would leave him with isolated patches of hair on his chest and possibly his back, as well as his legs. She found some pictures online of hair done this way, and I have to say, if it was done well, it would be nice. I was still thinking full clearance (apart from the pube heart) for me, particularly to be cake sit ready, and Vicki might yet do her legs, which would amount to a full clearance for her. We’ll each be able to check out the other’s bodies before making a decision to press on, and I can see smoothness only encouraging us more. I suspect my husband might be proved right, as I can see Vicki and I ending up with no hair at all below our hairlines, and that wouldn’t be a bad thing. I told you I’d come over all “take it all off!”

So, we all got sixty minute slots roughly every two weeks to get us started, and we are two sessions in. My legs and thighs have had the thickest hairs removed, and so I’m currently left with just the soft fine hairs. She’s also started on my ass, as I want to be cake sit ready for my birthday next month. My husband’s armpits and balls are mostly cleared, and his shoulders and ass have had the thickest hairs removed. Vicki’s armpits and ass are mostly cleared, and her pubes and bikini line are being cleared from the outside in.

Our electrologist is very meticulous, but also very quick, and if we all want everything cleared, we should need no more than 6 more sessions (followed by the occasional follow-ups over the coming year). So, by late summer, we should have removed all the hair we are going to, and we should be ready for sex parties, cake sits, nudist beach visits, naturist gatherings, swingers clubs or anything else we hope to get up to!

Phoenix Rising With A Fiery Ass

12 April 2021 /

I’m back! Six months after my previous blog disappeared from the internet without any notice, I’ve finally been able to get some new hosting sorted, and here I am, as kinky as ever, as naughty as ever, as explicit as ever and ready to blog.

Sorting out hosting has been surprisingly difficult. Most hosts specifically exclude explicit content in their terms and conditions, and some that do allow it are very expensive. Luckily, I’ve found Vice Temple, who are both reasonably priced and happy to allow very explicit content.

As I have full control of the blog now, I am taking the opportunity to give the layout a little spruce up. Nothing too radical, but the old theme I was forced to use didn’t work very well with mobile devices and had some annoying issues that I can fix now I’m in full control of the site. The blog has a new name and strapline, reflecting better how the blog has developed, and obviously, it has a new URL. I’ve been very lucky with the domain name: I wasn’t expecting KinkyMira.com to be free. It is nice and easy to remember, and I’m really happy to have it.

I have all the blog posts from my previous blog saved, and over the next few months, I’ll be posting them again, having given them a fresh edit. The tone of some of those older posts was not as explicit (when they could easily be), so I’m also bringing them in line with the newer material now that my style has settled down, and I’ve noticed the odd error or thing I can improve, and now seems a good time to deal with those. I have brand new material from the last few months to post to get us going again, and I’m also tweaking the categories and tags, in light of what I learned with the first blog.

I have three new areas, Who’s Who, Timeline and Firsts. Who’s Who shows all the relationships between people in this blog, as it is easy to lose track of who is who (particularly as historic and current posts are mixed in the post list). Timeline shows the blog posts in chronological order as the events occurred. Firsts is a chronological list of all the first times a particular activity is carried out with a particular person. All three pages will grow as blog posts get added (including the old ones). Also, for fans of my ass, I have the largest resolution image of my ass picture for you to enjoy. It is one of my favourites of my ass, pantyless of course, with just a hint of pink that signifies some paddle action earlier in the day.

Exciting times ahead, and I hope you will enjoy reading my words and posting comments. Your feedback has been lovely and has really spurred me on to restart the blog.

So that is the phoenix rising from the ashes bit covered. The symbolic rebirth, the hope, and the renewal. But this particular phoenix has a fiery ass. Spankings with a hand, a wooden hairbrush and then a tawse will do that. The wooden hairbrush and tawse make a particularly potent pair, mixing widespread impacts with highly focussed ones.

The tawse is new. Last November, I realised my ass needed something harder than the paddle we’ve been using. The tawse I bought was a Lochgelly Three Tail Tawse, a traditional hand-crafted tawse made from dense but supple black leather, meaning it wraps round the ass as it is applied and delivers a uniform strike across its length. It is a classic style school strap, but with particularly tough leather, meaning my ass knows about it. It is 18 inches long, which means that a well-aimed strike can cause the tawse to wrap round both ass cheeks including both sides. I have found it to give a most thorough all over spanking of all the implements been used on me to date.

When he first used it on my ass, it was that intense that I could only take about 10 strokes, but I’ve built up over time to take 30-40 depending on the day (even though the overwhelming intensity is still there). That’s much more what I was hoping for after those early sessions. (My challenge for 2021 is to have 2021 strokes of the tawse during the year; that works out at around 39 a week, so I’m now well on track to complete that challenge.)

But the spankings that gave me the fiery ass were related to this website. You see, my husband is a techie, and he did all the setup to make this blog possible. (I’m in awe of techies, because of the way they just know all the little things that need doing that mere mortals such as I would not have an inkling about).

But after many years freelancing, he’s always had this thing about never undervaluing his work. So, when I asked him if he’d help me, I offered to make payment so as to not undervalue his work. He obviously said I didn’t need to, but I was quite insistent, also making the point that I did not want him to skimp on time or effort as I wanted it done properly. Thus, we came up with payment spankings. Each and every day he worked on this blog, I’d get a spanking in proportion with the time. We agreed on a hand warm up, followed by wooden hairbrush and ending with the tawse (with the tawse strokes not counting towards my challenge total). At the time of the agreement, I had no idea that the wooden hairbrush and tawse would combine to massively increase the pain and torment my ass would feel. I soon found that out after his first day of work.

But I’m a girl of my word, and so every night, I’ve been over his lap for the hand spanking and the wooden hairbrush and then over the arm of the sofa for the tawse. Only once before have I had spankings on a good number of consecutive days, but only with the paddle. This was something else. The pain was fabulous, and my ass feeling like it was on fire and being split in two by the tawse was wonderful. Both the tawse and the wooden hairbrush were bruising in their own way and adding this day after day all went to increase the pain my ass had to go through. At first, I thought I was getting too few strokes, but the relentless day-on-day spankings soon proved I was getting enough.

But all too soon, he finished the website and with it my spankings finished. I wanted to carry on with them. My husband thought my ass had had enough for a while. He was probably right, but boy has that tawse exceeded my expectations. I was so right that I was ready for a harsher implement, and my careful and considered selection of a quality hand-crafted tool has certainly paid off.

My husband has enforced a two week recovery period for my ass. He reckons well deserved. I have no sympathy for my ass and can’t wait for the tawse to wrap itself round my cheeks again. Happily, that will be shortly after the recovery period ends, as he’s been saving up the payments for the odd tweaks he has made recently. My cunt is getting wet just thinking about it.

But in the meantime, I have the blog to keep me busy. So please make my ass’ sacrifice and torment worthwhile by reading, commenting, and using this blog for your enjoyment. It is so good to be back.

Cunt Worship And Queening Chairs (Part Two)

12 October 2020 /

I’ve already written about the three easier steps that Olivia laid out for embracing Cunt Worship. These are more of a challenge.

Fourthly, my husband always wanted to lick my cunt a lot more, but there were two issues. Firstly, I didn’t appreciate the act in its own right, and just wanted him to hurry up and get on to making me cum. Secondly, my aches and pains were always a blocker. So, for us, finding a Queening Chair was the key to much longer and sustained cunt lickings.

After trying both types of Queening Chair in France, they had distinctly different uses, so I was greedy and wanted both. The French engineer built and shipped both to us, and they arrived about a month after we got back. He even modified them a little, to include clips for holding spreader bars for my ankles or wrists and other clips to secure cuffs for my ankles or wrists behind my shoulders. I would have previously been horrified at the thought of my wrists being bound, but I liked this concept and potential here.

Olivia felt we needed to make the Queening Chairs a big focus of our Cunt Worship, by using them regularly. I intended to do that anyway, but channelling that enthusiasm meant a lot of cunt focus. She thought we could easily get up to an hour at a time licking me out, and that she considers an hour to be the minimum time a cunt should be licked for as a worship session. She also suggested I might at times like to use a mask, ear and nose plugs to deprive myself of my senses, to really focus me on my cunt.

The Queening Chairs are so comfortable that I can sit there and have my cunt worked for hours, and both Vicki and my husband now work my cunt for over an hour at a time. Vicki in particular seems to be addicted to my cunt, so will be down there savouring its taste, its smell, and its look for hours.

I find it relaxing to just close my eyes and let whoever get on with it.  The contact and the feeling of closeness is great, and I have got used to orgasming and then having more contact immediately after, a circumstance where I used to want my cunt left alone. I am very sensitive to touch, and feel every little touch, every lick, and every suck. It is very intense, but I’ve just embraced this intensity and now enjoy it.

Victoria and my husband are both so careful and so diligent in the way they work my cunt, paying attention to every part of it. I quite often can’t believe I didn’t want this for so long over the years – all that pleasure I missed out on.

I had several unsuccessful attempts at getting a mask that worked to block out the visuals, so I reluctantly went for a garment that I wasn’t planning to go near – hoods. I found a correctly sized cock-sucker hood, which is a full head neoprene hood with a large hole over the mouth through which you can breathe, or a cock can be inserted; there is no other holes, so that combined with a pair of good earplugs and a pair of good nose plugs means sight, smell and sound are all totally removed. Once I got the hood, it achieved what Olivia talked out, which was a total focussing of all your sensory capacity on touch, and if all that touch is only to your cunt, it produces the most amazing sensory experience, almost overwhelming at times, and makes you feel, for that period, that you are truly totally focussed on your cunt and that everything does indeed go through your cunt.

Fifthly, we needed to learn cunt massage. It is often called Yoni Massage or Vulva Massage and is predominantly an emotional thing rather than a sexual thing. I have been known to cum whilst he’s doing it, but normally I don’t and cumming isn’t really the aim.

There are lots of things to try, but I’ve found the best is for him to start massaging my tits, starting with the outer fleshy parts, moving on to my areolas but leaving my nipples alone for at least a couple of minutes. Once he does get to them, he squeezes, pinches and tugs at them.

Then he heads down my body over my belly, massaging as he goes, occasionally revisiting my nipples along the way, and after a suitable time period, he gets down to my pubic mound, which he again massages and strokes. I normally have my eyes closed by this point to focus on his work.

Then he heads lower and starts massaging my cunt. using techniques like circling (where he circles my clit with larger and smaller circles without touching it much), cupping (where he cups my cunt, making circular motions, then flattening out his hand to increase pressure), pushing and pulling (where he pushes down on my clit, making small repetitive movements or pulls down the side of my clit with his finger), rolling (where he rolls my clit between finger and thumb, eventually like he is trying to snap it off) and tugging (where he tugs on various parts of my cunt, pulling it away from my body – parts include my clit, my lips, my hood and anything else he can find).

Once this is done, he moves to massage the inside of my cunt, inserting fingers and massaging the inside using small circular movements and changing the speed from fast to slow. He tries to massage every part of my cunt that he can reach, ending up with my G-spot using a “come to me” type finger shape. The aim isn’t to make me cum, but I can do and have.

He sometimes combines the G-spot massage with the clitoral massage, and that can make me squirt. There is a big emotional difference between squirting in the full-on heat of a good fuck and squirting in the process of a cunt massage. He can now make me do both and regularly does, but a squirt under massage feels like much more of a gentle controlled almost coaxed release.

Sixthly, and to the most controversial thing Olivia said. Newer cunt worship, mostly powered by porn, has the woman in total control with the man worshipping her cunt. In more old-fashioned style Cunt Worship, in which both of us (or now all three of us) worship the cunt, she said that I needed to understand that my cunt belongs to my husband (and as it turns out to Vicki) as much as to me; the implication is that we all have an equal right to worship it whenever and wherever we like, and that, as the bearer of the cunt, I have to make it available for worship whenever wanted, and I should display it whenever possible.

This feels like a seismic loss of bodily autonomy; a transfer of rights to my cunt away from me and gets even more interesting when you bring Vicki into things. After all, if we all worship both her cunt and mine, this rule would mean I have just as much right to Vicki’s cunt than to my own. Very strange indeed and a bit disturbing, but Olivia said this was critical to proper (in her mind) Cunt Worship.

Vicki and I are certainly not ready for that at the moment, but we do certainly do the other five. I need to talk to Olivia again to find out why she feels six is so important. Neither Vicki nor I are saying never, just not now.

Cunt Worship And Queening Chairs (Part One)

3 October 2020 /

I have just realised that I teased a post on Cunt Worship ages ago, and I never actually finished and posted it. I even mentioned our Queening Chairs in later posts without mentioning how we got them. So, I will rectify that now.

I had a lot to think about after our holiday in France (about a year ago now and seems like a lifetime ago). I think the essence of what Olivia was getting at is that our cunts are amazing things that should be celebrated, loved, cherished, honoured, and worshipped. From discussions I’ve had and research I’ve done, not many of us women pay much attention to our cunts, other than to be filled with cock, as part of an orgasm or as a way to deal with our partners.

I think men are generally more appreciative of our cunts than women are (on average), and certainly the men I’ve been with have looked, touched, and caressed mine for as long as I would allow, which until recently wasn’t very long at all. At the time, it gave me great pleasure for my cunt to be filled with cock and cum, but I have to admit that I underappreciated my cunt otherwise. My husband always got pleasure from looking at my cunt and playing with it in various ways, but until this, I let him do it because it made him happy, rather than being something I totally wanted, even though when he did play with it, I did enjoy it enormously.

So, whether you believe in the energy flows or whole essence of a woman being channelled through her cunt, or the power a cunt holds over men or indeed a lot of women, or just that a cunt is a thing of wondrous pleasure that should be celebrated, then a bit more Cunt Worship is probably in order, and I ended up looking forward to valuing and appreciating my cunt more.

It is clear from talking to Olivia that Cunt Worship means different things to different people, and we each need to choose our own meaning and make changes accordingly. For me, I think I need to embrace my cunt’s beauty, its pleasure, and its power.

Olivia was enormously impressed with my pantyless way of life, something she had not achieved at the time (although inspired by me and my rules, she did go pantyless permanently last July), particularly the way I never cover my cunt up (apart from for wetting purposes). She loved the fact I always let my cunt have air flow around it, and even wetting is about my cunt and what comes out of it. She said my whole pantyless setup was a perfect example of Cunt Worship, and with my love of displaying my cunt, I was a Cunt Worship natural.

She suggested a number of steps for me to think about for my Cunt Worship journey.

Firstly, she suggested that we should both spend more time looking at and admiring my cunt. My husband did this quite a bit, and he never tired of it. But I never did it, and indeed, I had never seen the beauty of my own cunt. I had never really looked admiringly at my cunt – I had at Victoria’s and my other female partners, but never my own.

Olivia suggested I use an adjustable mirror to allow me to see it in comfort, and she suggested that I should spend at least thirty minutes doing so at least twice a week. She said during these half hours I should not masturbate, but look and admire, explore the folds, and generally see the beauty my cunt exudes.

I found these half hours to be a little like medication, that a calm descended over me and that I began to appreciate the beauty between my legs in a way I had never done before, and in a way, I think my husband long did.

I got my husband to tell me what me thought was beautiful about it. Clearly, it is aesthetic, but he loves the folds, the hole and the shapes and colours. He loves the way it can look completely different at times depending on how it is arranged, but it is clearly still my cunt, and he says he could clearly pick it out of a line-up. (I might test that one day). But the thing that really brings it to life is how it moves, as I breathe, or it slightly vibrates seemingly on its own. This is what makes him feel it is a very special part of my body and worthy of worship.

During these half hours, my actions were very slow, partially to avoid starting me down an orgasm path, but also this is a time for slow and deliberate actions; you don’t get to really admire, appreciate, and learn about something in a hurry.

It actually wasn’t very long before I really started to see the beauty and power of my cunt (in particular it’s pulsing and vibrations at times made me feel that). I suppose I started viewing it like a piece of art, with all its detail, its intricacy, and its movement, and only then did I start really appreciating how it looked.

Secondly, I needed to spend much more time solo on my cunt. I had never really taken the time to embrace what I have between my legs for itself, focussing instead on the act of making myself cum. I have made myself cum with toys quite a lot (although she said I should do more), but for me to embrace Cunt Worship, I needed to fully embrace my cunt, and that meant to play with it, to work it and to please it. So, a lot of playing, slow build up, work it with fingers and toys and yes, eventually orgasms, but after a good time, not as quickly as possible.

Thirdly, my husband needed to do more of all those acts and actions on my cunt that he often does, and I needed to focus on them as acts of worship, rather than stand-alone events, increasing the importance and emotion of them to a new level; things like lifting up my skirt to touch my cunt, playing my cunt when we are watching TV, parting my lips to watch me piss in close up detail, and cleaning or wiping my cunt.

More cunt inspections were in order, again as acts of worship. There is no tongue involved here, just his fingers for detailed and methodical inspections of every part of my cunt.

I finally bought the speculum he wanted. I’ve been scared of speculums since I had two of them snap closed on me during medical procedures. But needs must, as there really is nothing as good for cranking open a cunt and allowing inspection deep within it.

I’ve been told a couple of times when having my coils fitted that I have a long vagina, so I bought a large speculum, and it fits really well. When he has me cranked open and is using a torch to inspect deep within me, I really feel the depth of gaze, like he’s looking into my soul and my heart.

Those three steps are more about me and my attitude to my cunt. The other three steps (which will be in the next blog post) are more of a challenge.

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