The Sex Lives of KinkyMira and Friends

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

Category: Kink (Page 8 of 8)

Queen For Half An Hour (The Curtsy Chronicles – Part Three)

12 May 2019 /

We entered the bar and headed to the far right wall as suggested by Eva, and there they were – four queening chairs for us to try. My heart leapt with joy when she suggested them, and here they actually are, available for us to use.

I’ve loved the idea of queening chairs for some years. When I got together with my now husband, he was very disappointed that I didn’t really like my cunt being licked. It wasn’t about the actual licking though (I did rather enjoy that), it was much more about bodily and muscular comfort, and the fact that it always ended up being frustratingly cut short by aches and pains. We have tried various positions to improve how long he can lick me for, but the cutting short nearly always happens. Trying to find a solution to supporting us both during cunnilingus lead me to discover queening chairs.

We would have bought one years ago, but it was very clear that they needed to be fitted to our bodies and tested, especially as our issue is related to bodily support and pain, this fitting and testing seemed essential. There were two designs here for us to try, one where the ladies seat was at regular chair height, and one much nearer the ground. A cute brunette barmaid came over to explain them to us.

Starting with the one at regular chair height, I would sit on the chair, with my back and head supported at a reclined angle of my choice. There is a semi-circular notch cut out of the front of the seat, where his head pokes through, putting his face in close proximity to my cunt. Behind his head is a support, and his back is supported in a reclined state with his legs pocking out of the back of the chair at ground level. With the amazing amount of adjustment in the chair, we could get the position perfect for him licking away at my cunt, and with us both being fully supported, hopefully the licking can last a lot longer than at we can without the chair. The whole chair can rotate vertically though, so that my cunt can end up being pushed by gravity into his face, this being a more forceful face-sitting position. There are also straps to tie down his wrists “because we don’t want him focussing on wanking his cock, we want him totally focussed on licking your cunt”. If I were to sit the other way hugging the back rest, he would have access to my asshole instead.

The lower height queening chair has a large groove from front to back of the seat instead of the notch in the seat. This groove means that regardless of whether I was to recline or sit the other way and hug the back of the chair, he has access to both my asshole and my cunt. His head is nearly on the ground, and his body is therefore almost flat, again with wrist restraints as before. The barmaid suggested for that one, I should part my ass cheeks before sitting down, as it would much improve his access.

There were two examples of each chair, and I knew over the coming days, I would try both, but on this day, I decided to go for the first option, the higher chair and not using gravity to force my cunt down on him. The barmaid helped my husband to get in, then adjusted his seat to get his head in the right position, then I got on and she adjusted mine, before as a final point, moving my body towards my husband a notch, bringing my cunt right up to his face, and pinning his head against the back support.

She gave me a digital timer, and she suggested the usual protocol is to time how long he’s licking me for, and for him to grunt when he wants to stop but for me to then tell him when he can actually stop – usually after the next orgasm. She then bent down behind me and restrained his wrists, as I clicked go on the timer and my husband’s tongue started work.

It was totally dreamy. We were both fully relaxed and totally supported in a position that allowed him to lick my cunt without either of us having to put strain on our muscles. I noticed a few people come to sit at the tables close by to watch us, but my attention rarely strayed from my cunt, and soon I felt an orgasm start to build. I didn’t want this to end too soon, so I resisted the orgasm for as long as I could, but at 6:34 on the timer, he licked me over the edge, and I came with a massive shuddering orgasm. When I finally stopped vibrating, I felt his tongue flicking round my cunt, scooping up my juices and swallowing them, and then he started licking me again.

Normally after a licking orgasm, my cunt gets sensitive and he has to stop licking and move on to something else, but not today. This was a challenge to override my sensitivity and to hold my cunt in position for much more licking and another orgasm or two. I found myself focussing on my cunt and how that was the only physical connection between us at that moment, and I found myself feeling like at this time, the whole energy of our relationship flowed through my cunt and into his mouth. These feelings were overwhelming, but addictively good.

My second orgasm was at 11:04. I didn’t fight that one, I just let it come. I was so in the zone, in the moment, that I let my body do what it wanted. There is a really interesting juxtaposition in him being restrained both by my body and wrist restraints, and yet he was the one in total control of my body, through my cunt. I orgasmed again at 20:21 and was starting to build to orgasm number 4 when, at 26:56, he moaned (his signal that he was nearing the end). I told him that he was doing a wonderful job, and that I was so near another orgasm that I needed him to carry on. He hadn’t broken rhythm and carried on with renewed speed. I decided I was going to resist the orgasm until he got to 30 minutes, and he got me so near. I had to hold on to it for my life, but as soon as the clock flicked over 30:00 and then 30:01, I let go and let the orgasm flood over me.

After I had finished twitching, he again scooped up my juices with his tongue and swallowed, then he stopped and waited for me to move. I opened my eyes to see the audience applauding (I had totally forgotten that they existed) and one of the couples came over to help to get us out of the queening chair. I remembered I had to curtsy and was appreciative of the applause. My poor husband’s tongue had already started to ache, but I was proud of him for getting to 30 minutes and I was totally satisfied and exhausted, so I suggested we get some sleep after watching Eva fuck. What a fabulous place, and what a fabulous day, and we had ten more here before we had to leave.

OMG! He Made Me Squirt

1 January 2019 /

OMG! He made me squirt. First time ever. His face was soaked, as was the sofa. I was totally shocked at what he had done – he definitely made me squirt.

We’ve been trying to make me squirt on and off for most of the year, and I’ve been getting tense about it. I made the mistake of declaring making me squirt as a challenge for 2018. Despite some of the challenges being really hard, we’ve never failed in a challenge, yet despite a large number of attempts at squirting, we hadn’t managed it, and as we drifted through November, it was clear I was getting more and more stressed (which made me squirting less and less likely).

About 3 weeks ago, after another failed try, my husband told me that he thought I was stressing myself out, and therefore I was less likely to succeed, so he thought we should stop trying for a bit and maybe try again in January. I was disappointed, but he was probably right. We were bound to fail a challenge at some point, but the problem was that I really wanted to squirt. I was quite desperate to squirt. I had wanted to squirt since I first saw this beautiful girl at university squirt and soak those in front of her (it was a drunken party, and we women were discussing squirting and most women didn’t believe she could, so she called her boyfriend and proved it to us).

I’ve tried on a number of occasions over the years, but never had any success, but I didn’t give up. I thought that if anyone could make me squirt, it would be my wonderful, amazing husband, who reads my body like a book, and who knows every inch of me.

But my husband had a plan. He hadn’t given up on the challenge, but he knew that I needed to relax into it, and so he had to take the pressure off. He figured if he could take squirting completely off the table, then I wouldn’t really think about it and would relax into the session.

For part of his birthday, I’m always his sex slave, so he can do whatever he wants with me during that time. He realised he could play with my cunt quite a bit and he thought he would see if he could get me to squirt without me realising what was happening.

So, for the best part of an hour, he worked on my cunt and on my mind. It was quite a steamy foreplay session, with one of his hands nearly always in contact with my cunt (all the time he was kissing me or squeezing my tits or sucking on my nipples, he was also working my cunt). He was whispering gentle and loving filth about what he was going to do to me, but he didn’t once mention squirting – he was in full-on distraction mode. He then moved down my body and started licking my clit, as well as using his fingers. He rolled my clit in his fingers and occasionally flicked at it with a fingernail. My poor clit was feeling very tender and swollen, and yet I was begging him to carry on.

He started working some fingers in and out of my cunt. I now realise that he was deliberately not going near my G-spot, instead he was stimulating the length of my cunt with his fingers and it was all adding to how hot I was.

I was about to beg for his cock when he rolled his hand over whilst his fingers were in my cunt (so his palm was face up) and he started using his fingertips on my G-spot, delicately and rhythmically stroking at it. I still didn’t work out what he was up to – I was so in the moment and so focussed on my cunt and what he was doing to me that I didn’t realise. I didn’t want cock, I wanted him to carry on making my cunt feel amazing. Even when I got to the “need to piss” phase, I didn’t twig. Since we piss in sex quite a bit, I have learned to embrace such feelings, so I just let it pass over. He had put protective towels on the settee where I was, so I wasn’t concerned. He was using his tongue to flick over my clit, whilst at the same time firmly stimulating my G-spot with his fingertips. I was almost delirious at the effect he was having on my cunt, and the effect my cunt was having on me.

And then, wham, I squirted. I was totally and completely shocked. I opened my eyes to see his face soaked in my juices. There was also a big wet patch between my legs and my inner thighs were covered.

All I could say was “You made me squirt. I can’t believe it. You made me squirt.” He had a smug expression on his face. My husband’s devious little scheme worked superbly. I love him so much for even trying. He knew how much I wanted it, so he concocted this whole plan to make me squirt without realising what was happening.

He licked some off his face and I leant in to lick his face too. It was quite sweet, not really what I was expecting. I also wasn’t expecting to need his cock so quickly. It was clear I needed to cum, and his cock was hard, so he slid me down the sofa, so my ass was in the middle of the wet patch (such a turn on) and he buried his rock hard cock into my cunt and started pounding away. He made me cum twice before he spurted, and he left his cock to shrink out of my cunt, whilst kissing me very deeply and ensuring my ass didn’t leave the wet patch.

Analysing how he made me squirt, obviously, taking the pressure off was a big help. I was totally relaxed and in the moment. People have mentioned that “need to piss” moment, but I was easily able to pass that off, as I’m often pissing with him. It was the combination of clit and g-spot stimulation that did it for me. In all the penetrative sex I’ve had, I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like it, so I suspect I’m a g-spot only squirter, but I’m happy with to be able to squirt at all! There is one thing for certain, the same distraction technique wouldn’t work again. He knew it was a one-off, but it proved to me that I could squirt, and it showed him how to get me there. He was fairly certain that he has the technique sorted, so provided I can remove the stress and let him take care of my entire body, he should be able to reproduce it. I need to be able to squirt on demand. I can’t let the stress of trying to squirt stop me from doing it again. I am eager to it try again. I love it, but I want to enjoy squirting rather than being shocked by it! I’ve wanted to squirt for years and thought I never would, but now I have. We don’t do Christmas presents, but he certainly gave me the most amazing one this year!

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.

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.

Not An Act Of Dominance

17 April 2018 /

My husband was lying on our wooden floor, his head resting on a small square pillow. He was staring longingly up at me, standing naked over him. He had a great view of my cunt and up to my 34H tits.

I knelt down, with the lower part of my legs either side of his head and my cunt lined up with his mouth. I wasn’t facesitting, I was taking the weight, but my cunt was firmly in contact with his mouth. He used his tongue to locate my pisshole and then latched his mouth in the right position. This was a well-rehearsed positioning; he knew exactly where he needed to be.

He also knew to just stretch this out a little. Each second he made me wait with a ridiculously full bladder was a second of the kind of agony I love, a second of danger, and when he was ready, and when he thought I could hold it no longer, he tapped me gently on my ass with his hand, and that was my signal to release my hold and allow my hot piss to flow out into his mouth.

It was a well-practised exercise, as we wanted my flow to be just right. Too slow and it was frustrating for him, leaving him sucking on air and having only a drop of piss in his mouth each time he had to swallow. Too fast and it flooded out of his mouth and went everywhere. It is quite difficult to regulate a stream when you have a bladder full to bursting, but it is something I’ve mastered fairly well over the months we’ve been doing this. With a flow that is just right, he can gulp down all my piss with a pleasing yet challenging rhythm and keep flicking his tongue over my cunt to keep me clean.

Once my bladder is empty, he cleans and dries me with his tongue, and then he’ll attempt to lick me to orgasm unless I sit up and move my cunt away from his mouth. Whether I get licked to orgasm is entirely up to me, but I rarely pull away.

We first explored this particular watersports act because he wanted to try it. I didn’t really, but I wanted to please him, so I did try it. I wasn’t expecting us to feel such an amazing connection doing it, and to enjoy it so much. There is something wonderful and indescribable about someone wanting to suck on your pisshole and drink your warm piss as it emanates from you. He isn’t interested in drinking it out of glass, just straight from my pisshole, and it is that touching that makes this a very special activity. It also brings feelings to me of a provider / provide relationship, where he is eager to feed from me and I am eager to provide, a bit like breast feeding I suppose. It is a very emotional thing for us to do.

I’ve mentioned this in a number of places, and very soon, it brings out all the comments about dominance and subservience. It is the norm with acts such as these that it is about dominance, that he secretly wants to be dominated. It must be, after all, why would someone do that?

Someone would do that because they love the connection with their partner, the emotions, the sensations. I wasn’t expecting to get an amazing emotional connection from it, but I do. I really don’t know why, but it makes me feel loved. It is much the same for him. He is amazed someone would want to piss in his mouth in such a way, and it makes him feel loved too. He has a thing about liquids emanating from my body, and it had to be not be messy so we can just do it at a whim.

It is one of the things that annoys me about a lot of kink related places; the assumption that an act is always about the same thing for everyone that does it. Whilst for many, it is about dominance and subservience, for us, this is an act about connection, about love, and yes, about drinking from me and of me. There isn’t an ounce of power games in our relationship, yet everyone thinks there must be.

After all, him giving me a dose of anal at 6 in the morning whilst I’m not really awake must be about him exerting power over me. Us playing games where I try to hold onto my piss until it is so painful must be about him exerting power over me. Me pegging him and trying to get his ass to take a larger dildo must be about me exerting power over him.

No.

None of it is about power. We love each other and we like doing things to each other to make us happy, give us pleasure and to show how much we love each other. We love doing things where we are intimate, where we are close and I have to admit I have excitement each time I break a taboo like this, even if I’ve done it before.

Of all the things that we do, of all the ways we are intimate, one of those most intimate is when we are participating in watersports. I think many people rule watersports out very quickly, focussing on the whole liquids and mess thing, without realising the intimacy and closeness it can bring.

Another thing people focus on is the whole drinking thing. But it took a couple of years to progress to that, and even now, I don’t drink it often, but it does not detract from my love of watersports. In fact, the most intimate watersports position doesn’t involve drinking piss at all; he sits on the floor on some towels, legs together and straight out and cock and balls resting on top of his legs. I sit on his lap facing him, arms around his neck, my face very close to his and my cunt quivering just above his cock. In this position, we can kiss very passionately, and when I’m ready, I can release my stream and it will land on his cock and balls. The training to hold my piss for a long time and to have a controlled release means the pissing and kissing can go on for quite a while. It is so intimate. We quite often carry on kissing long after the pissing has finished. I don’t want the situation to end.

A variant of that position is to rest the tip of his cock up against my pisshole, so that my piss has to force itself past his glans. If he is partially hard, we’ve found that he can hold his position against my stream, and this means that my piss sprays around and covers both of our crotches. That spraying is a joyful experience, but the positioning is hard to get right.

We’ve even on occasion managed to get me pissing whilst his cock is firmly buried in my cunt (in another variant of the same position). That is quite a difficult position mentally, as my brain wants to go sexy, and that invariably stops my piss from flowing. But the feeling he got was amazing: a focussed powerful jet of piss on the area of skin directly above his cock, again with the ricochet liberally covering both our crotches. I could feel the effect it was having making him harder, although that made it harder for me to carry on too.

Watersports gives us a level of intimacy that it is hard to surpass, and it has surprisingly become a big part of our emotional connection.

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