The Sex Lives of KinkyMira and Friends

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

Category: Sexuality (Page 1 of 2)

Christmas Cheer

26 December 2022 /

My husband and I aren’t massive Christmas people. We’ve both got things in our histories that put a dampener on the season, and given it is my husband’s birthday, we celebrate that in the main and we just normally spend the day snuggling and fucking.

But this year, we have had some really special news to brighten up the season and bring us some Christmas cheer. You see, whilst Victoria was away for work this year, she has been staying down south with our friend Laura. It was us that originally introduced them (at one of our parties), and Laura’s was a convenient place for Vicki to crash, but it quickly turned into a good friendship, and soon after a friendship with some casual sex.

Some casual sex turned into rather a lot of very intimate sex and over the past few months, it appeared to us to be turning into a full-blown relationship, as we had noticed them behaving more and more as a couple. Seems that it happened somewhat by accident, and they only recently realised themselves (a good while after we had). When we stayed with them last week, it was clear they needed to talk something through, so after we got our tits out but before any of us began working towards an orgasm, we had a summit.

Summits are a part of a well-functioning polyamorous relationship, and of course, Vicki is our much loved third and someone we already have an enormously deep relationship with. She was very relieved to know that we had realised what was going on. Be hard not to: you can see it in their eyes and in their interactions. They are very much in love.

Things like this are a crossroads in a polyamorous relationship, and my husband and I had talked a few days before that it was likely she would want out of the relationship, and we would obviously let her go, but would have been tremendously sad at doing so. But things didn’t work out like that.

What Vicki was really nervous about was asking whether we would like a new sort of polyamorous relationship, one built on two married couples rather than one married couple and a third. The married couple and a third thing always did feel a little uneven for me, but it was the best we could do. We loved her and wanted her in our relationship. It was just the reality of the situation that my husband would always be my first concern and me his. This new structure would have Vicki and Laura being each other’s first concern. Seemed much fairer.

And Laura is already very close to us, and perhaps closer than we realised. We helped her to get over her husband’s affair, helped her to reconnect with her lesbian side and brought sex back to life for her. Through all that, we developed really close connections too, and it is something my husband and I have discussed for a while. What we didn’t realise is the connection she felt for us, almost at times jealous of not being part of our family. It was never just about great sex for her, it was always much more than that, but she never really told us.

So, having fallen totally in love with Vicki, this was the perfect arrangement for Laura. They were just scared we wouldn’t want to. They need not have worried. It was the easiest decision my husband and I ever made (although we did privately discuss it to make sure it was what we each wanted).

So, as of last week, we are a polycule of two couples, each pair of the four people closely emotionally connected through love and care, and physically connected through fucking good sex, kink and common bonds.

And as part of the polycule, Laura and Vicki intend to get married next year, and are therefore officially engaged. They’ve already asked me to be chief bridesmaid and my husband to be best man – that makes the best man fucking the chief bridesmaid almost a certainty!

My husband and I are absolutely over the moon with the whole situation. For someone who started with us with no interest in a relationship, our beloved Victoria is now totally and utterly in love, and you can just see what a connection they have. Laura has been through a lot and deserves happiness, and in Vicki and our relationships, she’s having a great chance of that. My husband and I couldn’t be happier with the way it has all worked out.

And of course, we will also still have sex with others, with appropriate agreement from all involved, it just extends our family by one and means Laura is as committed to the family as Vicki, rather than just having some great sex with us.

We talked about living and working arrangements, and how impractical four people living in one place and all mostly working from home would be. Laura had previously decided that she needs to get away from the bad memories that are all around where she currently lives, and therefore, she has decided to sell her house down south. They’ve both seen and experienced enough of what life is like up here to realise they want a bit of that in their futures too, so Laura is going to buy somewhere in our village, hopefully only a minute or two away, and we’ll all have keys to both, so living will be flexible and varied. I feel incredibly lucky to be here, and with these two amazing women both totally committed to our relationships.

And by way of emphasising how much sex there will be between the four of us, my husband and I fucked them both later in the evening, starting as we meant to go on. He had us all in a row bending over the sofa, cunts on display, moving his cock seamlessly from penetrating one cunt to the next before any of us could cum. My husband’s cock seemed particularly hard, and he was switching from cunt to cunt without losing any structural integrity. Having three cunts to fuck really suits him! He eventually ended up cumming in Laura’s ass in her favourite pinned against the wall anal position. He didn’t allow any of the three of us to cum, until at the end, we lay in a triangle, and each licked each other to orgasm. A perfect way to cement our new relationships (if a little frustrating at being edged until the end).

So, in a change of plans, Laura and Vicki are both here for Christmas. They arrived on Christmas Eve Eve, and almost immediately, the lounge became a sea of bare tits and asses, and hairless cunts (as Laura has completed her electrolysis and is as hairless as me and Vicki).

And Laura has already handed over her panties to my husband to lock away. Like Vicki and me, she’s now without periods thanks to her Mirena, and so she too pledged to be pantyless, exactly five years to the day from when I did so.

In some ways, all these whirlwind changes are so surreal, and yet in other ways, they are so perfect. It just feels so comfortable and right. After a pretty crappy year for everything apart from sex, kink, this blog and my relationships, it is a perfect end to the year and a great way to start 2023.

Happy Christmas everyone (or whatever you are celebrating at the moment). Stay safe. Have orgasms. And then have some more orgasms, as there are never enough orgasms in the world.

Mira xxx

Influences and Progress

29 April 2020 /

I was genuinely concerned that I had permanently lost my desire for sex. Whilst I was ill, I had sex primarily because I wanted to feel close to my husband and Victoria and to make them happy. Normally I want sex for my own sake as well, for the penetration, for the genital contact and for the orgasms.

My husband did his bit to help my desire return by wearing his suit much more than usual. He’s a respectable senior manager and he looks fucking gorgeous in a suit. When he comes in from work wearing it, my cunt usually moistens up immediately and I have a desperate need for him to fuck me whilst wearing it. I’m glad we bought a machine washable suit, as it would become expensive to keep having it dry cleaned. Even though I was feeling like shit, I still needed his cock in my cunt whilst wearing the suit, so it got me having more sex than I might otherwise have done. Cunning, and brilliant that he found a way that worked.

As I’ve recovered, I’ve got my desire back with a vengeance; in particular, Vicki has really got me hooked on having my cunt licked, which is interesting as less than a few years ago (before meeting Olivia on holiday), I really didn’t like it being licked that much.

Vicki’s tongue is amazing: so gymnastic, so flexible, so strong, and so long. It always feels like she is digging her way into my soul, rather than merely licking my cunt. My husband has a great tongue and uses it well, but it has nothing on Vicki’s. I guess it is because she knows what works well on her own cunt, and therefore does that to mine. That, together with the agility of her tongue, makes for an utterly mind-blowing and deeply probing cunnilingus session. Vicki has had a lot more lesbian experience than I have; sure, I’ve been with a good number of women before and I’ve had and given some wonderful orgasms, but Vicki is much more about the experience, the whole package, the love making; “The Vicki Fuck Experience” I call it (she said I make her sound like a theme park ride, and what a ride she is!).

Whilst I was feeling down and melancholic, I was thinking about how fragile sexual desire is. Up until that point, I had always wanted sex and had always found sex when I needed it. In morale terms, it was absolutely crushing to not want sex. I forced myself to do some stuff, a lot of anal for my husband to enjoy and a lot of cunnilingus for Victoria to enjoy. At the time of each act, I did enjoy myself, but for some reason there was no connecting that enjoyment to desire.

When I was at my lowest, I thought a lot about all the people that helped me to get here. Obviously, my husband and I (and now Vicki) encourage each other, and he has been positive not judgemental when I’ve made “disgusting” suggestions, and I don’t think I have suggested anything that we haven’t tried.

But there are others who had a big influence on where I’ve ended up.

The first was my sexual education teacher at school. I was only fourteen, and here was this beautiful young woman teaching a load of girls about relationships and sex. She was body positive and sex positive, telling us about female empowerment and how women should enjoy sex too and how to go about making sex what we want or need. My family always treated sex as if it was disgusting, yet here was a positive role model teaching us how to enjoy sex. Here was somebody strong, sassy, sexy and eloquent, and she almost instantly became a role model to me.

I still have the book she gave us in the classes. Amongst the advice was to never trim or shave your pubes as they have an important function to perform. Our teacher did a really good job of selling this to us; we didn’t find out until just after leaving school that she began the day of that particular class with trimmed pubes and ended the day (in an act of rebellion) with her cunt totally waxed. She was my hero and my inspiration.

I still remember the key bits of advice that she gave us. Never say no when you mean yes, masturbate frequently to build up your stamina, and always wear your panties on top of your suspenders to aid a quick fuck. Three important pieces of advice, and I suspect that isn’t quite what the government had in mind.

A few years later, the latter piece of advice became useful, as I realised that tights brought on cystitis, and just what a cock magnet stockings were. The men I encountered loved fucking me with my stockings on, a love of sex whilst clothed that is still going strong today.

Getting my panties off wasn’t a problem; finding them or remembering to look for them was quite a challenge. I lost count of the number of pairs of panties I left in unfortunate places. My favourite was I left a pair drying on a radiator in an Indian restaurant; I didn’t have the nerve to go back and ask for them.

My boyfriend of the time was always taking them off me at parties, mostly to masturbate me, and when I looked for them later, they had gone. Someone had a nice present, but my bank balance was stretched with having to keep buying new ones. It really wouldn’t have surprised me if he was selling them to his mates. He was ultimately an abuser who I saw for what he was and dumped, but he was an important influence in that he took sexual activity out of the bedroom and into the public arena, something my husband has built on.

The next person who influenced me was a girl at college called Di. We were flat mates who quickly descended into lesbian friends with benefits. Neither of us knew what we were doing, but we found our way through trial and error. We ended up most nights snogging, cuddling, and masturbating each other, and she taught me how to really let go when I orgasmed, as before her, I was rather quiet and reserved. I would love to have a session with her now, as I have come on leaps and bounds as a lesbian lover.

My final influence is a guy I knew about a decade after Di, and someone I have mentioned before. He has a condition that makes him between male and female (in that he has a small but functioning cock and decent sized breasts). He presents as male because his wife and soulmate didn’t want to be a lesbian, but he was amazing with me with encouragement and advice, about who I am as a person, about sexuality and getting what sex I want, and not following convention. He taught me a lot about gender identity and presentation, about being bi and pan, about how wanting and craving sex and going to get it is a good thing, and he introduced me to a whole community of interesting people, a community my husband and I are still very much involved in today.

I have been very lucky to have a lot of good influences on my development into my kinky self, and into a person who is able to talk about and support others who have made non-mainstream choices. After all, that is what this blog is really about – being the sexual animal you want to be, not the one society expects you to be.

The Inevitable Drift Towards Polyamory

4 March 2020 /

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s Like I’m Always On Heat

14 September 2019 /

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Changing Thoughts On Consent

14 July 2019 /

Prior to being with my now husband, I very much believed in the strict implementation of consent. You know, fresh consent every time, no blanket, long-term, advance, or enduring consents can be given, you can’t consent when you are drunk (by definition), all that.

So, the night we got together, on about the fourth time he snogged me, he cupped my clothed breast as he leant in. In other circumstances, I might have objected, but I was so desperate for his touch. I had realised I wanted him a few months before, and I was so glad that he finally touched me even slightly sexually, and I was keen to encourage him. I had known him for a number of years before we got together, and in that time, he was the perfect gentleman. Never an inappropriate touch or word.

I also know from discussions before we got together that he was very aware of consent issues and was normally over cautious. I didn’t want him to be over cautious, I wanted him to touch me sexually without concern for whether I wanted it. I did want it. Whatever he wanted, I’d do it. Five seconds after our first kiss I’d have fucked him if he had wanted.

He left his hand on my breast for a couple of long snogs and a bit of conversation, and then he moved it off, and I was a little disappointed. So, after a short period, I moved his hand back onto my breast, the clearest signal I could give that I wanted it.

And he took the hint and touched my clothed tits and ass regularly over the course of the evening, as well as my hair and face as I looked adoringly at him. It felt so good. From that day to this (with some encouragement in the early days), he touches me a lot, mostly my tits and ass, but he also strokes me, my arms, my hair, my back. And my cunt, oh how he touches my cunt. To this day, his touch is electric and fabulous, and I crave it and miss it when he doesn’t touch me up for some reason. I used to see women getting groped by their men in shops, and I used to think they needed to get some self-respect and claim their bodies back, and now here I was desperate for him to do that to me (and he now often does). I feel like when he touches me publicly, he’s saying, “she’s mine, hands off” and that makes me feel very happy. My views on touching me up have definitely changed.

On the third day we were together, he kept popping round to my place during the day between appointments, and every time he did, I got my tits out for him to play with. (I think the last time I was a little too quick, and therefore would have flashed them at anyone in the street.) I was again encouraging him, making him want me more and feeling his mouth round my nipples and his tongue flicking across them was amazing. I knew he loved my tits from long before we got together, so I knew he would be only too eager to play with them and finally to get to suck on them.

Over the coming weeks, I consistently gave him the blanket consent message to touch me however he pleased and to do whatever he wanted with me. Now obviously on any given occasion, I could have withdrawn consent (even though I never did), but from a consent perspective, I was uneasy. I didn’t believe in blanket and enduring consent, even to someone you are married to, and yet that is exactly what I was doing: not just long-term non-specific consent but encouraging him to take me as he wanted. I was conflicted because I fucking loved the results, and I knew I should have been horrified.

As our relationship blossomed, he started to get more adventurous with me (and all without me explicitly giving consent). When he started putting his hand under my clothes and touching my tits or cunt, far from objecting and as an automatic reaction without giving it a thought, I opened my legs to give him better cunt access or leant forward to allow him to pull up my top and unhook my bra. When he started moving my panties aside to gain better access to my cunt, I encouraged him to work my clit hard. When he started removing my panties all together without asking or checking, I loved how owned it made me feel.

I’m not really sure he realised what he was doing, but he kept gently pushing the blanket consent boundaries, fucking me, and getting kinky with me as he wanted. I should probably have been horrified, but instead, I basked in the warm glow that blanket and enduring consent with him was the best decision I had ever made (often a short-lived feeling that was replaced with the bow wave of an orgasm).

I even told him that I expected him to fuck me when I was ill or drunk. I often want a fuck if I’m drunk, and because the consent situation is difficult if you are drunk, I made sure he knew he was to fuck me if either he or I wanted it. I’m not a very good patient (I get very down), so fucking me when I’m ill is important as it improves my mood and therefore improves my recovery. We sometimes jokingly call a fuck “my medicine” and him cumming in me “an injection”.

It’s not all one way either. I do similar things to him too. I regularly masturbate him to wake him up (before riding him to get his large cock cumming in my cunt). Luckily his cock seems to have a mind of its own, so I get to ride him when he’s ill, and he’s still able to be ridden when he’s a bit drunk (not massively drunk, but given how much he needs his car, he never gets that drunk). I quite often play with his cock and balls when we are cuddling up, or when he’s doing something in the kitchen.

You see, he had no such qualms about consent. For him, from the first time I played with his cock and balls, he made it very clear that I could do whatever I wanted, and we’ve proved that over and over again.

So, my thoughts on consent have definitely changed since being with him. I don’t believe you should hand permanent consent out to just anyone, but where your partner clearly demonstrates over and over again that they look after you and adore you, I have come to the conclusion that blanket and enduring consent is a good thing. I know if I say stop to him, he’ll stop. That’s all I need.

So, in short, I have broken my own rule and given him blanket long-term permission to fuck me whenever, wherever, and however he likes. I love being his plaything, I love not knowing what he’s going to do to me, I love just being used like a slut, often with him taking charge and just doing what he wants.

So, if I’m lying there and he wants to lick my cunt, he’s going to lick my cunt. If he wants to bend me over the arm of the settee and fuck me, he’s going to bend me over the arm of the sofa and fuck me, and I consent to it all, every last touch.

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